Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from El Salvador and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Kerri Chandler to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marc Almond,
Pet Shop Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mr. Review,
Mars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Slits,
Harry Pussy,
Nirvana,
Amon Düül,
Suicide,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ponytail,
Roger Hodgson,
Kenny Larkin,
Kool Moe Dee,
Half Japanese,
Popol Vuh,
Frankie Knuckles,
Japan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mantronix,
ABC,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Smoke,
Max Romeo,
Circle Jerks,
KRS-One,
Roxy Music,
Vladislav Delay,
Joy Division,
The Golliwogs,
FM Einheit,
Sällskapet,
B.T. Express,
Eric Copeland,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sight & Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
La Düsseldorf,
Beasts of Bourbon,
DNA,
Mission of Burma,
Sandy B,
Organ,
The Misunderstood,
Agent Orange,
Josef K,
Brick,
Alison Limerick,
DJ Style,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Moleskins,
The Angels of Light,
David McCallum,
Aaron Thompson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Groovy Waters,
The United States of America,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.